The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
by seditionary
Summary: Derek gives Spencer a Christmas task, and he's not happy about it. But, Christmas is a wonderful time of year!


**A/N:** **This is just a fluffy little one-shot for the holidays. Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!**

*****

Spencer Reid sat himself down at the dining room table, his back straight with tension, an expression of resentment clouding his handsome face. He cast a sneering glance at his boyfriend, happily lounging on the couch with his feet up, a beer in his hand and a football game on the television.

Derek Morgan was oblivious.

Spencer stared at the materials spread out in front of him, momentarily distracted from his bitterness by the enormity of his assigned task. And not just by its enormity, but by the tediousness of it, not to mention the anxiety the job was already creating in him. Spencer did not enjoy being responsible for work that he was not good at, and he knew he would not be good at this, never having attempted such a daunting activity before. He knew he would screw it up, and he knew Derek would end up being angry with him.

Spencer Reid was hostile.

Nevertheless, he set to work. He hadn't gotten past the first item when he made a noise that was a combination of frustration, anger, and utter hopelessness. It was somewhere in the range of a hyena's cry mixed with a lion's roar, with a tiny bit of lost mewling kitten coming through at the end.

Derek didn't bother to look up, but absently asked, "Something wrong, babe?"

"Yes, something's wrong! Something's very wrong. I hate this."

"You haven't done anything yet."

"I don't have to do it to know I'm going to hate it."

"Just do it."

Spencer screwed up his face in disgust, but took his pen, bent forward and gave it another shot. After only a few minutes, he inquired, "Why are you making me do this again?"

"Because you need to."

"Why?"

"I told you. Because you've missed out on many important life lessons and this is one of the basics. It's remedial."

"What the hell do you think this is going to teach me?"

"You'd be surprised."

Spencer glared at him, but dutifully returned to the odious task. He stared at what he considered to be the equivalent of day in a salt mine and announced, "I'm not going to do this."

"Yes, you are."

"No, Derek! This isn't me. I'm no good at it. You do it."

"No. You need the experience, I have a game on, and anyway, your handwriting's better than mine."

"But I don't even know what to say!"

"You don't have to say anything, that's why they invented pre-printed Christmas cards. Just sign our names."

"That's just the trouble! I don't know these people--what do I write? 'Sincerely, Derek and Spencer'? 'Best wishes, Derek and Spencer'?"

"Say, 'Love, Derek and Spencer.'"

"I don't love anyone on this list, I haven't even met them yet!"

"Then say "Merry Christmas.'"

"What about the Hanukkah people?"

"What?"

"Well, you apparently have some Jewish friends, judging by the names. I can't say 'Merry Christmas' to them."

"I also have friends who celebrate Kwanzaa and Ramadan, but I think they'd take a 'Merry Christmas' greeting in the spirit in which it was intended."

"But--"

"Ok, ok, just say, 'Happy Holidays.'"

"That seems unspecific."

"It's meant to be unspecific! Quit over-thinking this, Reid, the mailman's going to pick up in an hour and these'll barely make it out in time."

Spencer gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine." He settled in and wrote the first of many "Happy Holidays! Derek and Spencer" salutations. He had a nice little stack finished and decided to start the arduous process of addressing the envelopes.

All was quiet for a good five minutes when he emitted another moan of despair.

Derek rolled his eyes and said, "What?"

"What am I supposed to put for the return address?"

"Spencer, you've been living here for almost six months, I should hope you know the address by now."

"I'm not talking about the street address, I mean our names."

"Huh?"

"What am I supposed to put? 'Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid?' Or, 'Derek ampersand Spencer?"

"'Ampersand'?"

"Yeah, you know, that little curly symbol for 'and.'"

"Oh, yeah."

"And, what about my title?"

"What title?"

"'Doctor.' Do I say, 'Mr. Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid'?"

"Sounds a bit pretentious."

"Well, yeah. But, don't you want to impress your friends?"

"You're not a medical doctor, I don't know if it's that impressive."

"So, just 'Spencer?'"

"I'd say so."

"Ok. So, what about the ampersand?"

"I don't care about the ampersand."

"But--"

"Spencer, I have a bunch of self-adhesive labels in the desk, just use those."

"But, they only have your name on them."

"So?"

"So, I thought the point of this wretched exercise was to make me part of the social fabric. If my name's not even on the return address, how does that make me part of the social fabric?"

"Your name's inside the card, the label's not that big a deal!"

"Well, it is to me. I've never been a part of a couple before, and I want to be included."

"You are included! That's why I'm making you do this!"

"Then, order some new labels."

Derek ran a hand over his face in frustration. "I'll be happy to, but obviously that won't do us any good today."

"I know. That's why I'm hand-writing the address."

Derek sighed.

"Baby, do it however you want. It'll be fine."

"Ok."

Silence reigned for over three minutes, then--

"Derek?"

"Yes?"

"The ampersand's too casual."

"Too casual?"

"Yes. It looks like an invitation to a comic book convention."

"Then, write out 'and.'"

"Ok. But, that takes longer, you know." Derek didn't acknowledge the dire implications of Spencer's statement, and went back to his game.

The room was peaceful except for the announcer's calls, then--

"Fuck."

"Oh, God. What's wrong now?"

"I just realized I've been putting the stamps on upside down."

"That's ok. They'll still deliver them."

"I know, but it looks idiotic! What will your friends think? I have to throw them out."

"Throw them out? I--well, ok, whatever."

Derek could hear Spencer counting, then a wail of dismay.

"I can't throw them out, I'll run out of stamps!"

Derek tore his eyes away from the television to look at his anguished lover and set his beer on the coffee table. He got up and went to him and wrapped his arms around him from behind and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Spencer--don't throw them out. Don't worry about it. These are old friends of mine, they won't care if the stamps are upside down."

"But--"

"One of these days soon, you'll get to meet them. And whey you do, I guarantee you they won't be thinking, 'Hey, there's Derek's boyfriend! The one who doesn't know which way is up on a Christmas card!"

Spencer leaned into Derek's embrace and closed his eyes. Derek smelled good. He fervently wished he could go curl up next to him on the couch, put his head in his lap and take a nap, but he still had several more cards to go.

"I just don't want to embarrass you."

Derek smiled, tilted Spencer's face upward and kissed his warm lips. "Baby, I'm so proud of you I could burst. Here--give me a stack and we'll finish these together."

Spencer's face lit up with relief. "Really?"

"Yeah. I can see that that's what I should have done in the first place. Now that I'm part of a couple, you know."

"I love you, Derek."

"I love you, too."

They smiled at each other and got the task finished just in time for the mailman to pick up.

Thirty minutes later they were cuddled together on the couch. Derek was stroking Spencer's back and he could feel the slim body relaxing against him as Spencer became drowsy.

"Thanks for doing the Christmas cards, Spence."

"That's ok, thanks for rescuing me. I'm glad we won't have to go through that for another year."

"Well--"

Spencer's sleepiness disappeared and he jerked upright.

"What the hell do you mean by 'well'?"

Derek grinned.

"After Christmas, we'll have a few thank-you cards to write, you know."

"Oh, God..."

"Didn't your mother make you write thank-you cards?"

"No."

"Oh. Then it'll be good practice."

"Practice? For what?" Spencer stared at Derek, bewildered.

"Well--you remember you asked me what I wanted for Christmas?"

"Yes. You never told me."

"I've been thinking about it. All I want for Christmas is the answer to a question."

Spencer scrunched up his nose in thought. "What question?"

Derek turned to face him and his manner became serious. He slid off the couch onto one knee, took one of Spencer's hands in his and said, "Spencer Reid--will you marry me?"

Spencer was speechless for a whole minute, then he threw his arms around Derek.

"Oh, Derek. Yes. God, yes--I love you."

Derek smiled joyfully, kissed him, then raised his eyebrows when Spencer's expression changed from complete happiness to one of horror.

"What's wrong, babe? Change your mind?"

"No--I just--it's just that--we don't have to sign wedding invitations, do we?"

Derek chuckled.

"No, they'll be all printed up for us."

"Whew."

"Someone will have to address them, though."

They looked at each other for a moment and then they spoke as one.

"Garcia!"

They laughed, and Spencer settled back into Derek's lap.

Derek smiled as he ran his hand along Spencer's back. He was looking forward to later that afternoon--they'd be wrapping presents then.

And he was going to make Spencer fill out the gift tags for all of their friends.


End file.
